


Atonement

by dawnperhaps



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-31
Updated: 2012-03-31
Packaged: 2017-11-02 19:06:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/372318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dawnperhaps/pseuds/dawnperhaps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel wants retribution for Lucifer’s death.  Sam is not so willing.  AU after season 5.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Atonement

**Author's Note:**

> Note 1: This is set in a universe where Gabriel came back and saved the day by killing Lucifer himself.  
> Note 2: I am definitely not against the idea of BDSM in (almost) any of its forms. In fact, I’m a major proponent. However, I do believe there is a time, a place, and a healthy state of mind for it. The fic sort of explores that, but not very intensely. I just felt the need to clarify so I don’t offend anyone. Obviously, this is pretty PWP, but there are a lot of feelings. I read and write a lot of fics that have Gabriel putting Sam back together, but I think Gabriel probably needs a little TLC, too.

Sam doesn’t expect to be plowed into by an archangel when he retreats to his room that night.  But then again, he rarely expects it.  Gabriel’s ability to pop in and out of a room – flying, Sam supposes – doesn’t make for a lot of anticipatory ability on Sam’s part.  It always takes a while for Sam’s brain to catch up.  It doesn’t matter, though, because his body catches up way before his brain does, arching against Gabriel’s hands, which feel like they’re _everywhere_ , and letting out a hiss when Gabriel’s teeth bite into his shoulder.

“Fuck, Gabe,” Sam groans, a little disoriented.  He has a hard time keeping up with his still fairly new lover, and Gabriel never tires of catching him unawares.  Sam is learning, though, and he’s happy to do so.  Gabriel is an all-powerful archangel with a mean streak of mischief and capriciousness, and if that means that Sam sometimes ends up bent over in a supply closet or drunkenly fucking the smaller being against the nearest flat surface, well, he’s not complaining.  He’ll take Gabriel’s overactive sex drive over Dean and Castiel’s frustrated eye fucking any day of the week.

It also helps that he’s quickly falling head over heels for the guy.  Although he’s snarky and abrasive on the outside, Sam never forgets that Gabriel is the same angel who has spent hours talking Sam down from soul-smothering, self-imposed guilt trips.  He’s the same angel who snatched Sam up moments before he and Lucifer plunged into the Cage.  He’s the same angel who finally stood up to his favorite two brothers to save Sam and Dean and fight for humanity.

“Not the bed,” Gabriel says quickly, and Sam wastes no time in slamming him against the room’s hideous wallpaper, rocking their hips together to force the angel’s legs up around his hips.

“This work for you?” Sam asks, grinning slyly, but Gabriel doesn’t smile back.  Instead, he shoves hand into Sam’s hair and smashes their lips together in something that can barely be called a kiss, it’s so violent.  Gabriel’s bites his lower lip hard enough that Sam moans not entirely out of pleasure, wincing when Gabriel’s fist tightens in his hair.  He’s no stranger to rough sex, but he is a stranger to rough sex with Gabriel.  Playful, maybe, but never violent.  Never painful.  It’s not so much uncomfortable as it is confusing, but Sam presses him harder into the wall, willing to be flexible.

“Fuck me, Sam,” Gabriel growls against his neck, all nails and teeth and harshness.  There’s something different about it.  Something wrong.  There is anger and desperation, something dark and brooding, overwhelming the arousal that’s evident in his angel’s voice.  Sam forgets why he wanted to be open minded, unable to shake the feeling that this isn’t right.

“Slow down, Gabriel,” he murmurs cautiously, bringing his lips to the other’s jaw line and making his kisses tender and lingering.  Gabriel jerks away like he’s been burned before gripping Sam’s shoulders so tightly he thinks he might pop a joint.

“No,” the archangel grinds out, low and powerful, any traces of the Trickster gone and replaced by a dangerous deepness that Sam barely recognizes.  “I said fuck me.  Come on, right now.  No foreplay.”

“That’d hurt like a bitch,” Sam tells him incredulously.  “Gabe, hey.  What-”

“I want it to hurt,” Gabriel hisses, his nose buried in the human’s neck.

Sam gapes, all his movements stilling.  “ _What?_ ”

Gabriel bucks his hips forward, rubbing them together through their jeans without any sort of grace.  “I said I want it to hurt.  What, you don’t get satellite up there?”

“I heard you.  And… no.”

“Sam, I need it.  Please,” the angel pleads, although it sounds more like an order than a request, his eyes still that strange combination of fury and determination.  “Come on, it’s hot, right?  Fuck me into this wall until I’m begging you to stop, make me scream, make me-”

Sam kisses him hard only because he wants him to shut up, not because he’s encouraging this.  He’s not even entirely sure what “this” is, but Gabriel doesn’t seem to be in the mood to explain, holding onto to Sam’s shoulders like he’s drowning in a pool that Sam can’t see.  When Sam doesn’t push harder and move faster, Gabriel’s nails dig into the back of his neck and Sam finally pulls away, letting the angel fall to the ground.  Memories of Ruby flash through his mind and he finds himself shaking his head because this is supposed to be different.  Gabriel is different than Ruby and Sam doesn’t want to do this with him, this weird, sadomasochistic dance that makes Sam feel like he’s out of his mind, and not in a good way.

“No,” Sam protests, holding his hands up and moving across the room.  “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but… no.  Not like that.”

“I’m asking very nicely here, Sammy,” Gabriel growls, eyes narrowed.

“You’re obviously confused or pissed off or something, and I don’t really want to be the outlet for that, alright?” Sam says, trying to talk him down gently and rationally.  He’s unused to Gabriel’s more serious side.  He’s definitely not adverse to it, of course, and in fact there are days when he wants to grab Gabriel by the shoulders and shake him until he expresses some sort of emotion besides amusement and indifference, but this isn’t the careful, cathartic kind of expression Sam had in mind.

“I want to be the outlet,” Gabriel corrects with a dark smirk.

Sam huffs out an astonished laugh.  “I’m not doing this.”

Sam definitely isn’t expecting it when Gabriel grabs him and shoves him up against a wall, crowding him not so much physically as mentally.  The archangel seems too big for his vessel sometimes and Sam winces when he feels the sting in his back, trying to retain a measure of control over the situation.

“Listen to me for a second.”

“No, you listen to me, Sam,” Gabriel snarls, eyes so intensely gold and furious that Sam can barely focus on them.  “You’ve forgotten something in the past month.  Let me remind you that I am one of the four most powerful things God has ever created.  I’ve ripped villages apart with a thought, slaughtered entire races of creatures, and when Judgment Day does finally come – which it will – I’m going to be the one blowing the starting whistle.  I am older and greater than you could ever dream of comprehending.  And you, Sam Winchester, are some tiny, insignificant speck descended from animals that crawled out of mud.” Gabriel pushes hard into his shoulders and Sam feels his collarbone complain loudly, the muscles beneath the archangel’s hands shivering in distress.  Gabriel’s eyes are molten, practically glowing with rage that he is barely controlling and, if Sam didn’t know any better, he’d think his insides were about to be incinerated.  “So why don’t you save the whole ‘holier than thou’ speech for someone your own size?”

There’s a long, agonizing moment of silence in which they just stare at each other, Sam’s heart rate slowly climbing back down and his breathing returning to normal.  He tries to see the creature Gabriel just described, the vicious, merciless archangel so many of Sam’s books portray, or even the demigod, Loki, even the Trickster.  But Sam doesn’t see any of that.  He only sees _Gabriel_ , a lost little angel who just happens to have three sets of wings and a trumpet, an angel who very recently slid a blade into his own brother’s stomach for the sake of the greater good.  Sam thinks of all the times he begged Dean to kill him, to stop him himself before it was too late, and thinks of Dean’s eyes, of the tightness in his expression, the absolute horror written all over his face at the very prospect.  That had been the face of a man only considering killing his own brother.  Gabriel actually carried through with it.  For humanity.  For Sam.

“Gabriel,” Sam says gently, bringing a hand up to touch the angel’s arm.  Gabriel jerks away from him again, looking a little panicked now.

“Sam-”

“I’m not going to _punish_ you, Gabe.  I’m not a sadist,” Sam insists.

“I dragged your sorry ass away from the gate to Hell!” Gabriel snaps.  “You needed something.  Now I need something.” 

“You don’t need this,” Sam tells him desperately.

“Oh, do _not_ tell me what I need, Sam.”

“Look, I understand guilt.  I do,” Sam continues, holding up his hands in a placating gesture.  “I mean, I did start the apocalypse.”

“No, Michael and Lucifer started the apocalypse!” Gabriel practically shouts.  “And I ran away and let them.”

“We all had a hand in this, Gabriel!  How many times have you told me that?” Sam exclaims.  “You want me to think of you as some horrible creature that deserves some horrible fate, but I don’t think that.  I can’t even believe _you_ think that.”

“I ran away and let my brother become a monster, and then I killed him for it,” Gabriel argues, wilting as soon as the words leave his mouth.  “What do you think that makes me?”

“Flawed,” Sam says immediately.  “Flawed.  Like the rest of us.”

“That’s a heck of a flaw, kiddo,” Gabriel sighs, his anger slowly dissipating as he almost visibly sinks into self-hatred, his eyes falling to the floor and his posture slumped.

“If rough sex is what you want, what you’re into, fine,” Sam says, weakly throwing up a hand.  “But I don’t think it is.  And I don’t want to.”  He lets out a humorless laugh.  “I know sometimes you have to break all the way before you can heal, but Gabe.  I think you’re already broken, man.”

“I’m pretty sure I deserve to be,” Gabriel mutters.

Sam knows it’s a gamble when he moves forward and presses his lips against the angel’s.  He half expects to get punched in the stomach or socked in the jaw, but Gabriel is barely responsive, his arms staying at his sides while Sam’s hand cups the back of his neck, trying with all his human power to pour love and acceptance into the kiss.  Gabriel willingly steps with Sam as the human moves them away from the wall and over to the bed.  If Gabriel wants sex, he’ll get sex, but they’re sure as hell not doing it Gabriel’s way.  Sam backs off for a moment at that thought.

“Am I… taking advantage here?” he asks uncertainly.

Gabriel gives him such a witheringly unimpressed look that Sam just grins sheepishly and goes back to kissing him, relaxing when he feels the angel respond.  When Gabriel’s hands slide into his hair, Sam pulls away and fixes him with a firm stare.

“No snapping,” he orders, enduring a brief staring contest.

“No snapping,” Gabriel finally agrees, exhaling loudly as if it’s more of a strain to keep his Grace in check than it is to exert it.

Sam undresses them both slowly, enjoying the slow reveal and the chance to ghost his lips over each newly exposed piece of Gabriel’s body, things he doesn’t get to take pleasure in when Gabriel snaps their clothes away with a thought.  It’s even nice to reach over into his bag for lubricant.  He wants to ask to see the angel’s wings, but that might be pushing it, especially considering Gabriel is obviously a little tense already.  But Sam intends to melt that tension away, to make the angel see how perfect and divine Sam thinks he is.  They’re going to make love and Sam is going to heal this broken warrior, no matter what said warrior thinks.  Gabriel shivers when they’re both fully undressed, like the cool air of the motel room is actually affecting him, and Sam blinks in surprise.

“Are you… _cold_?”

Gabriel rolls his eyes halfheartedly.  “You’re the one who said no snapping,” he mutters.

Sam hadn’t thought that would mean no _anything_ angelic and his heartbeat quickens at the thought that he might be able to have Gabriel bare and powerless, as close to human as he’ll ever get.

“Thank you,” Sam breathes before he can stop himself.  Gabriel shudders again and doesn’t respond, and Sam sets about warming the angel back up.  He thinks he hears a choked sob when he hooks his hand under Gabriel’s knee and moves his lips up the angel’s thigh, but he doesn’t look up to check.

Sam opens him up slowly with his tongue and his fingers.  He occasionally glances up and meets Gabriel’s heavy lidded eyes, but the archangel keeps his eyes closed most of the time as his fingers grip the bed sheets and his breathing becomes ragged.  When his hips begin to move helplessly against Sam’s ministrations, Sam tightens his grip on his leg and hip and holds him steady, keeping their pace slow and reducing the angel to a shuddering mass of nerves.  He works Gabriel up to three fingers and then swallows him to the root, just barely taming his gag reflex.  It’s worth it to see the archangel’s fingers spasm around the blankets and his back bow so prettily.  Sam can’t help but take a moment to admire the sight of the all-powerful archangel spread out for him, flushed with arousal, and biting his lower lip to keep from howling, all his normal defenses down.  Gabriel doesn’t let himself be vulnerable very often, not even during sex, and Sam knows this is a gift for him as much as it’s a gift for Gabriel.  When Sam starts bobbing his head in time with the movement of his fingers, Gabriel keens.

“ _Sam_.  Fuck,” the archangel whines, meeting Sam’s gaze when the human looks up at him through his lashes.  “Keep that up and this isn’t going to last much longer.”

Sam considers pushing him over the edge, maybe coaxing him into the shower for a while and then warming their way back up again, but Gabriel’s eyes are a little desperate and Sam doesn’t want to deny him this after denying him earlier.  So he pulls his mouth away and climbs up the length of Gabriel’s body.  Before Sam pulls out his fingers, however, he changes his angle and thrusts them in one more time, slamming against his prostate.  A desperate noise rips out of Gabriel’s throat and Sam swallows it with a kiss, letting Gabriel taste himself on his tongue.  When Sam inadvertently lowers his hips, their erections slide together and they both groan into the kiss, breaking apart to get a hold of themselves. 

“Okay, consider me officially taken care of,” Gabriel pants, trying to sound frustrated but mostly sounding breathless.  “Can we step on the gas now?”

“Relax,” Sam says, chuckling into Gabriel’s neck.

“I’m so relaxed!” Gabriel insists, wrapping his legs around Sam’s hips and sighing in relief when he hears the uncapping of a bottle.

Sam presses Gabriel’s arms over his head, his hands tight around his wrists as he rocks into him.  Gabriel doesn’t fight him either, which is different but nice.  Sam likes to be in control, but, more importantly, Sam wants Gabriel to give up his control.  Sam wants to see Gabriel fall apart under his hands, wants to break him down and rebuild him the way Gabriel did with him.  If he gives up his control, he gives up his guilt, and even though sex isn’t as healing as talking, it’s a start.  Gabriel’s been nothing but steady and supportive through Sam’s struggles.  Sam can recognize within himself the need to take care of other people and he’s been helpless to do so lately, too consumed with his own problems.  But that changes now because obviously the archangel has been dealing with his own inner demons for a while now, and not in the healthiest ways.

“Sam,” Gabriel moans eventually, his heels digging into Sam’s upper thighs as he tries to push him deeper.  “More.”

The archangel groans when Sam sinks deeper, although he refuses to move any faster.  When Gabriel tries to buck up to increase the pace, Sam moves his wrists to one hand and reaches down to hook his arm under Gabriel’s knee again, spreading him apart and preventing him from moving.  Gabriel’s head falls back and he whimpers, his chest rising and falling in unsteady breaths, and Sam takes the opportunity to ghost his lips over the angel’s throat, brushing against his pulse point to feel the pounding beat.

“No snapping,” Sam reminds him.

“Yeah, I got that,” Gabriel replies in annoyance.

Sam slants his mouth over Gabriel’s, the undulation of his hips staying slow and unbearably easy.  His shifts his angle just enough to brush against the spot he knows will make his lover forgive the leisurely pace, and sure enough Gabriel gasps into the kiss, his wrists jerking in Sam’s hand.  A touch of Grace and Gabriel would be easily breaking free, but he doesn’t try. 

“ _Sam_ -”

“I’ve got you,” Sam promises.  “You’re my angel, Gabriel.  I’ve got you.”  He briefly touches his lips to the corner of Gabriel’s mouth and the archangel lets out a noise that sounds suspiciously like a sob, but he turns his head away before Sam can look.  Sam gives him his moment of privacy while continues to rock them together, moving inside him deliberately and using every opportunity to kiss him, to keep them close and keep Gabriel covered and grounded as he unravels.  He’s consumed with the need to push Gabriel to let his guilt go, to relax and just feel loved, everything Gabriel already does for him.

When he finally wraps a hand around Gabriel’s cock and asks him to come, Gabriel is shaking and sweating and letting out tiny, choked off noises, more wrecked than Sam has ever been allowed to see him.  Sam barely has the conscious mind to feel honored, so close to coming himself, mindless words falling from both their lips.

“Let go,” he urges.  “I’m right here.  Let go.”

Gabriel comes barely managing to say Sam’s name and Sam holds off his own orgasm to work Gabriel through it, still thrusting against his pinned hips and moving his hand in firm strokes.  When Gabriel opens his clouded eyes – which Sam thinks are clouded with more than just lust – and stares at Sam like he’s the goddamn sun, like he’s the thing deserving of worship, like Gabriel is _grateful_ , Sam quickly follows him over the edge, his face buried in the crook of Gabriel’s neck.

They don’t cuddle.  Sam just gave and took a lot from the archangel and the initiation of something more seems almost invasive.  Neither of them are quite ready to discuss what just happened, in any case, and cuddling is one of those things that seems to invoke talking if you aren’t just going to collapse afterwards.  So Sam carefully releases his grip on Gabriel’s knee and pulls out as Gabriel moans weakly at the loss.  When Sam remembers how his other body parts move, he pulls himself up and away and gives the angel some space to breathe and recharge his Grace.  He folds his hands behind his head while Gabriel stares accusingly at his still shaking legs before lazily rolling over onto his stomach.

“I hate you,” the angel mutters into the pillow.

Sam smiles at the ceiling.  “Are you okay?”

Gabriel turns to look at him, huffing out a short sigh.  He raises his eyebrows at Sam and asks, “Are _you_ okay?”

“No,” Sam answers, his smile becoming a little wry.

“Me neither,” Gabriel says.  He props himself up on one elbow and finally snaps.  The sheets rearrange themselves and both men are notably cleaner.  They lie there in quiet for a while as Sam waits for Gabriel to disappear and wallow wherever it is he does his wallowing.  Probably a hotel in Malibu.

“I think I’m okay-er, though,” Gabriel suddenly admits.  He glances over at Sam to gauge his reaction to that, but Sam keeps his poker face and just nods, although inside he is overwhelmed.

Overwhelmed.  It’s the only word he can think to use.  He’s overwhelmed by everything Gabriel is, from the archangel to the pagan god to the Trickster, all of whom Sam couldn’t be crazier about, despite logic and destiny.  He is silently bowled over by the realization that he was able to do something to help him, an angel of heaven.  He drowns in the feeling that this could work, that they could fix things and fix each other, that they might make sense in some fucked up sort of way.  He has to admit that he can’t remember what it’s like to look at Gabriel and not want to give and take everything, and surely Gabriel can see all this in his mind.  The knowing little smile Gabriel has on his face when he rolls over again assures Sam that he can.

Sam didn’t expect to be plowed into by an archangel when he first met him so long ago.  But then again, people rarely expect this sort of thing.


End file.
